Welcome to our blog! Come and join us on what we hope will be interesting and exciting adventures. Having enjoyed camping with our children decades earlier, we dreamed of revisiting favorite state and national parks as well as new destinations across the country, although this time it wouldn't involve setting up a tent or sleeping in our 1970 VW bus. In 2008, we purchased a travel trailer (more on that later).

Our Vacation Cottage On Wheels

Friday, March 19, 2010

My intent for this blog was to document our adventures as we traveled around the United States. These "adventures" have included stories about our pets, the places we have visited, our neighbors, amusing stories from our past, and not-so-pleasant events in the daily lives of many RVers. This latter category has included stories about me getting sick while on the road.

I did struggle with whether stories about my health even belonged in a blog about full-time RVng. But then I realized that fulltime RVng includes the whole enchilada, as they say.

"We arrived in San Antonio today. It was sunny and hot.

We had dinner at Pedro's Authentic Northern Italian Restaurant."*

Accurate, but boring. Wouldn't most people like to know that you spent the night with your head in the toilet, all the while cursing Pedro? But then I worried that people would tire of stories about me getting ill, or lost, two things that I seem to be doing a lot of lately. Well, I replied to myself, people get sick while staying at 5-star hotels, too, don't they? And isn't concern about one's health something that some people have to factor into their decision to start, or even continue, fulltiming?

During the past 2 and a half months, my wife and I have had our share of illnesses; OURS as in MINE and Rocky's, my dog. Those events have stressed our pocketbooks and our determination to continue our adventure. Well, mostly Maureen's determination. "Take me to a hotel!" "Take me home!" and "Enough is enough!" have been heard frequently during our time on the road. I can't criticize her for her feelings, since who wants to live in a home the size of our last master bathroom with a sick husband and a pain-crazed dog? ...Or was that a sick dog and a pain-crazed husband?

But we're still out here, letting God and the interstate road system take us where it or He may. I mean, afterall, I got sick when we were living in our sticks-n-bricks home right? And I didn't give up and say, "That's it! We're going RVng!" Did I? Well no, but one wouldn't normally think that way...

The point is, stuff is going to happen when you go fulltiming, as it does while leading a more conventional lifestyle while living in a house, a condo, an apartment, or even a yurt (look it up; I can't do all of the work here, you know). And, unless you have a disorder that requires unusual and frequent treatment by a specialist, there are fine doctors and hospitals all over our country. And, if worse comes to worse, we're all no more than a half day's flight from home or a somewhat reluctant relative, right? And there's always someone who can can drive the RV home... for a price.

As I explained to Maureen the other day, if I am going to be sick, there's no place I'd rather be than right here with you and Rocky, in our RV in this beautiful place, surrounded by friendly neighbors, all of whom were probably strangers up until a day or so ago. And I don't have to worry about cutting the grass or shoveling the sidewalk, either.

My latest adventure; no, that's not fair, since everything that happens to me also affects Maureen - OUR latest adventure began during our second week at the Naples KOA. We'd been having a great time attending the various activities and conversing with new friends from all over the country (Well okay; mostly Canadians). I began having a nagging pain in my back, centered over my kidney. I became less and less able to find a comfortable way to sit or lie down. As the pain worsened, we began to suspect that my right-hand kidney was involved. I had a similar event in January while further north at Bay Bayou, but it was less specifically located and faded away after a week or so. This time, there might as well of been a bullseye painted on my back right over the kidney with a bunch of cute cupids shooting arrows into me. We quickly decided that it was time to go to the ER at the regional hospital on Collier boulevard just a few miles from the KOA.

After an EKG, CAT scan, blood and urine analysis, we were referred to Doctor Luke, a local Urologist, who we were able to see the next day. By then, the radiologist's report was in from the CAT scan. It said that I had 4 medium-size stones lodged in my right kidney. Well, that explained the increasingly excruciating pain I was experiencing. I went back home to our RV in considerable, squirming around, groaning, calling on God for relief kind of pain. I was scheduled for sonic blasting the following morning. For the squeamish, there's no cutting involved, just full anesthesia and a howitzer-sized sonic cannon that pulverizes what ever pebbles, stones, or boulders may have grown in your kidneys or their associated plumbing.

The anesthesia is the most modern type, where one moment you're chatting with an OR nurse and the next you're waking up in recovery. I've been told that this type of anesthesia allows the surgical staff to keep you awake, but unfeeling, so that they can question you about things; like what's your position on the national health care question. Answer wrong and you get bigger stitches and and they do funny things with your privates while the staff poses and someones takes pictures. It must be hilarious. For them.

Seriously, it's a painless procedure. At least until you wake up in recovery with 6 nurses holding you down in your bed while you scream for your mommy. Just kidding, my nurse told me that it only took 2 of them to restrain me. At one point (it was nearly closing time), my wife was brought in to help the nursing staff. Since my procedure was complicated by the need to inject dye into my urethra (I could have said weenie) through a garden hose stuck up my weenie, I was in additional (as in tremendous) post-op pain. Maureen's job was to keep me from grabbing at my weenie, which felt like it was lined with razor blades.

Well, I'm home and recuperating, hoping that my adventures in the medical side of RVng are over ... for a while, anyway. Oh, what's with my title for this post? I thought you'd never ask. The urologist discovered that I have a THIRD KIDNEY! WHAAAT? A THIRD KIDNEY? Yup, a third kidney. Known as a duplex kidney, mine was completely blocked by one of the stones the urologist blasted. As soon as I learned of my "gift," I checked eBay. Being just my luck, there's no real market for it. Maybe I could join a carnival; "The Man With 3 Kidneys!"

(BTW, I don't think that there's any such restaurant as Pedro's Authentic Northern Italian, but, just in case there is, sorry, Pedro, I'm sure your food is just great)

Reading about your Third Kidney and your kidney stones gave me the laugh of the day----however, I know that it really is no laughing matter to be afflicted with kidney stones. Glad you can see the humor in it all --now that you are "all better" that is!!!!You sure have a knack with words and putting them together to form an interesting report. Keep up your blog and I will stop by now and then. Happy Travels too.My hubby and I winter in AZ in our RV and have a great time. Can't wait to go again this fall and ride our quad.

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Rocky The Wonder Dog

Camping Stories...

What Bears Do In The Woods...

"Don't go into the woods tonight unless you bring along a gun, the teddy bears are having a picnic..."

It's not just a song! It's true!

A little story that I submitted to one of the Web's RV Forums. I hope that you find it amusing and informative — this is serious stuff people!

While relaxing outside of our new Fun Finder trailer last week, my DW of 43 years and I reminisced about camping with our children some 40 years ago...

We visited Washington D.C. on one trip and then drove up to Matthews Arm campground in the Shenandoah Natl. Park in Virginia. We haven't been back there for many years since the kids grew up and we retired in Florida, but we remember certain things about that trip like it happened yesterday. The thing to know about Matthews Arm CG is that it was THE place to go - to see bears.

On our first trip, we were a young, new family without much experience camping, two toddlers and just a VW bus to use as our RV. The first day we were in the park, we had a surprise at dinner time. While we were sitting at our picnic table with our young children, just starting to eat our dinner, I spotted a black bear sauntering down the campground road - and headed our way.

This being our first experience with a bear not in a cage of some sort, we were both thrilled - and scared. I shouted out a warning and told everyone to get into the van. The bear had turned off the road and was heading toward our site. Before I knew it, my wife had scooped up the kids and jumped into the van, slamming the door behind her. As I pounded on the door, looking over my shoulder at the advancing ursine invader, my wife just stared out the window at me in dazed amazement- as if she couldn't understand why I was still outside with the bear!

She shouted through the glass that I should get in there with her and the kids - "RIGHT THIS SECOND!" I managed to finally get her to understand that I would be VERY glad to, if only she would UNLOCK THE DOOR!

Well, I made it inside and, after climbing onto our picnic table and chewing on everything that looked like or smelled like food, the she-bear, as it turned out, ate our dinner and then climbed down and walked away.

Amazed at what happened, I waited until the all-clear was sounded and ran across the way to a neighbor's camp site. Yes, they said, the she-bears come around every evening at dinner time, and didn't we NOTICE that we were the only ones still having dinner when ALL the other campers around us had finished and quickly cleaned up and put everything that would attract a bear safely away? Well, nooo, we hadn't noticed and learned an important lesson about bear country: Ask about potential bear visitors when you arrive and be prepared to hustle when the time comes - and, oh yes, eat early and keep a spare car key in your pocket at all times! A mother's protective instincts toward her family don't always include her husband!

By the way, the other lesson we learned was that, although the she-bears came around at dinner time, the much bigger he-bears came around later. I've still got a collapsible water jug with deep tooth marks in it that got chewed on by a big fellow who came around in the pitch dark that same night. After being up most of the night, we left early the next morning...

Another "Bears In The Woods" Story... Submitted By Me On RV.Net

I agree about the danger in treating these animals as friendly "pets." I've seen foolhardy people ignore warnings about the danger of bears time and time again.

On another trip to the Shenandoah N.P., I watched in amazement as one jerk chased after a female black bear and her cub, trying to get ahead of them so that he could get that perfect "Kodak Moment" photo. All the while, a very annoyed ranger was chasing him, demanding that he cut off the chase.

Anyone who camps should be knowledgeable enough about the wildlife that they might encounter to know how dangerous a sow could be when accompanied by a cub. Maybe more people need to have a close encounter and come to know how lucky they are to not have been confronted by a bear.

On another trip, my family and I were tent camping in Shenandoah with a coworker and his family. It was chilly at night and we both had our catalytic heaters going in our closely pitched tents.

Late one night, after bedtime, we heard what we knew was probably a large male passing through the campground, knocking garbage cans out of their concrete-based highway divider-bent-into-a-ring protection. We could hear his progress as he went from can to can, coming ever closer to our tents. They might as well have been playing the "Jaws" da-dum-da-da-dum music for all the fear we felt.

We were huddled in the very center of our tents when the bear hit the garbage can not a dozen feet away; the one we had filled with the night's dinner scraps, including corn cobs soaked in butter. The bear went to work on our garbage. We could hear every grunt and breath from where we were.

When things went silent we thought that he had moved on. He hadn't. We heard the crunch of leaves under his heavy footsteps as he approached our tent and paused just outside.

We were praying that our toddler and young daughter wouldn't wake up and begin crying. The bear was snuffling, circling the tent. When he reached the middle of our encampment, right between the two tent fronts, pitched not a dozen feet apart, he stopped. Silence again. More silence.

My wife had a crushing grip on my bicep. Well, that was one helluva long night. The bear must've fallen asleep in between our toasty, warm tents, oozing nice heat out through their canvas into the night air. We sat up listening to him breathing, not 6 feet away. I'm not sure when he finally left, but one moment we could hear him out there and then he was gone.

And so were we the next morning. That was the last time we camped there.

We need no further education about avoiding bears. After leaving Virginia, we moved on down to the Great Smokey Mtns. N.P.

On arriving at the Cades Cove gate, a ranger told us to be careful - the night before, a black bear had torn his way into a tent holding two female campers AND the grapefruit that they had cut and set aside for their breakfast in bed.

The ranger informed us that the girls froze and were not harmed, but that they probably had to change their shorts after the bear left.

We were as nervous as hell from that point on. I think that was the point in time that I started dreaming about owning a nice, hard-sided RV...

A New Blog - Check It Out!

1990 Toyota Celica GT

The Restoration of My 1990 Toyota Celica GT

Well, she might not be a 1964 Corvette Stingray or a 1959 Porsche 1600 Super (both of which I owned once, early in my marriage and sold for PEANUTS!), but she's mine, she's paid for, and she deserved to live on.

So I decided to return her to the pristine (or better) condition that she was in when she rolled off the factory floor at Toyota Motors in Japan nearly twenty years ago. As you'll soon see, she's a beauty. She'll be refered to as "Yoda" from now on (Sorry, Karen, but "Yoda" makes more sense and a married man shouldn't give a name to his car that's the same as an old girlfriend's.)

I've created a linked blog all about my owning automobiles that are very valuable TODAY, but weren't so much 30 or 40 years ago, and were sold for PEANUTS (But who knew, right? I mean, I would put every penny I had on Microsoft way back when it was a startup selling for PEANUTS and now would have someone who worked for me writing this blog, but WHO KNEW?

If you want to see more outstanding writing, maybe pulitzer quality, check my other blog at: